C'est La Vie

(From April 1)

Hi there, friendly people!

Happy weekend to you all. Unfortunately, although it is technically the weekend for me since it’s Friday, I still have quite a bit of schoolwork to which I must attend in the next few days, so it’s not a real restful weekend like the ones I’ve had over the past month or so. It’s all part of that commitment to bettering my learning!!! (Which is sounding much less attractive now that I have to put together a group presentation on a Saturday morning…)

The past few days have been packed with lectures on the history and economics of Cape Town and South Africa as a whole. They’ve been utterly fascinating, and the caliber of our lectures is out of this world. Many of them have been advisors to the UN, and one of the lecturers showed us a graph integral to the understanding of the economics of Cape Town—and he was one of the contributors to the study! Learning from the forefront experts in the fields about which we are learning really enriches our academic experiences. So that’s pretty cool!

I got smashed by a wave of homesickness yesterday while texting my mom. She was comforting me about some issues about which I don’t even feel like thinking about right now, and she made me feel so much better, but not being able to hear her voice and realizing that I couldn’t just run into her arms and make her give me a hug brought tears to my eyes. I’m excited to go home.

After taking an hour long nap yesterday then bidding adieu around 9 PM to go to sleep, my host mother appraised me with slitted eyes. “You like to sleep a lot, don’t you,” she ventured. I confirmed the statement. “I could tell,” she responded, with a little bit of sass. Another host mom disappointed in my lack of raginess. Well, I suppose that’s just me. C’est la vie.

My long ten-hour sleep that I thought would completely defeat the jetlag still felt much too short. I woke up groggily to my 7:10 AM alarm then attempted to sound chipper when my host father rapped on the door to ensure we were getting ready. We ate a quick breakfast of Kellogg cornflakes (reminded me of India) and some fruit, then got on our way.

A little bit about Cape Town and where I’m staying, etc.

Cape Town’s weather resembles Southern California’s quite a bit. It’s a little bit wetter, honestly, but it’s currently fall here, and it’s in the 60’s—perfectly balmy. Never thought I’d say this (literally never), but it’s kind of nice to wear a jacket again! I’m living on the base of Signal Hill, which is a hill (duh) that makes up the eastern border of the Cape Bowl. I look out onto Table Mountain (v famous) and Lion’s Head, a mountain that looks vaguely like the profile of a lioness. Behind Signal Hill is the more rounded bay of Cape Town with the oval-shaped stadium that was built for the 2010 World Cup and is probably more recognizable from pictures. When I first saw the Bowl, I was slightly jarred, as it seemed more cosmopolitan and less nature-y than I’d imagined. I think that’s because the other side of Signal Hill is what I’ve been picturing, so I’m excited to explore that, too. I have a fabulous view from my homestay’s balcony and look out over the entire Bowl, which lights up at night and sparkles in the darkness. I also loved that today, as soon as I rounded the corner of my building and started down the outdoor flight of stairs, I smelled a fresh ocean breeze. I stopped in my tracks (to the slight confusion of Savannah, my roommate) and spread my arms wide and savored being back next to a big salty body of water. EEP LOVE IT.

To get from my homestay to my classroom, we walk straight down a massive hill, past some beautifully cheery, brightly colored homes that have come to symbolize Bo’Kaap neighborhood (look it up—they’re so pretty!). We walk past numerous restaurants, cultural centers, museums, and business places to get to class, which means we get to observe the city center of Cape Town at its busiest and most “real” every day. That’s pretty cool. I’ve already created a list of things I’m dying to see and do before I leave—and I only have four weeks left!!!

Okay, back to my day. Neighborhood Day, one of my favorite parts of this program, was today, which means we visit a small patch of the city and explore it to learn about its history, population, and lifestyle. I went with a group of five to Claremont, which is really close to the city center and has a hip college town vibe with yoga studios, stylish (and cheap!!!) clothing stores, and delicious food. I had to be dragged away from the Forever 21-type establishments before I cleaned out my bank account. Upon returning to Bo’Kaap, I ate a delicious dinner of fried chicken and konked out for a two-hour nap.

A bunch of friends are going out tonight because it’s Friday woohoo!!! But I’m conserving my energy for a weekend full of activities and sight-seeing and physical activity. Time to snuggle into bed with Infinite Jest—and maybe a class reading or two—then get to sleep.

Small detour for a second, because the inability to access WiFi and therefore anything on my phone besides my camera has pushed me to engage in the most desperate of mobile activities: flipping through my old photos. I think about who I was in April of last year (happy April!), and I realize that I’ve been out of the country, pretty independently, for five of the last twelve months. I’ve seen three Wonders of the World, I’ve traversed five different continents, I’ve forayed through nine different countries… And I’ve changed. A lot. I’ve left people behind as I’ve outgrown them, and my burgeoning maturity (don’t laugh at that, Mom) and my strengthening self-esteem have allowed me to recognize the differences between a true friend and an abuser of my generosity. And so the ones that I have decided to shed, due to differing levels of kindness, worldliness, and empathy, give me no qualms, and I spare only a fleeting thought of “good riddance” as I swipe past their pictures.

It is those who have left me behind, before I’d attained this new maturity, and self-respect, and who may have appreciated me more had I possessed these a few months earlier, that give me pause. And it makes me wish that I could meet some of these people again, as the woman I am today, someone of whom I am proud and love a little bit more, so that they could appraise this Aubrey—and maybe some things would have turned out a little differently.

BUT c’est la vie. In a few hours, while I’m (hopefully) dead asleep, my rooming situation for my senior year at Harv will be decided by fate. Fingers crossed that I get a room all to myself for the first time at Harvard!!!

Contemplative and appreciative and isolated from the rest of the world,

AubStod

Cultural Weekend and a Sobering Monday

Gosh, have I truly only been here in Brazil for a week? It feels like forever in the best possible way. I've enjoyed numerous encounters with the culture of this city; I've savored the food and the people; I've learned about the history, the art, and the problems of the city; and I've come to appreciate the beautiful, compassionate, lively, whole-heartedly wonderful spirit of Paulistas.

Saturday night, Samantha and I met five other friends for a soccer game!! Attend a soccer game in Brazil... What an experience to check off the bucket list. We cheered for the Corinthians, a Sao Paulo-based team, as they played against someone else (don't remember their name) with the colors red and green. In a hilarious and slightly frightening intro to the craziness that is Brazilian futbol, an armed and armoured cop (of which there were plenty at the game) warned Sally that she could not sit on the Corinthians side. This was because her dress was almost sort of dark forest green and would potentially get her beat up--even though she was literally wearing a Corinthians flag as a cape. Upon showing the cop her flag, he very hesitantly gave her the go-ahead.

what did we get ourselves into

Despite the slightly nerve-wracking beginning to our futbol experience, it was literally one of theeee most fun games to which I've ever been!!!

Vai Corinthians!!!

potentially spent more time looking at the camera than at the field

I couldn't really figure out which team I was supposed to cheer for, so at every moment of potential scoring, I had to constantly inquire,

because I REALLY didn't want to get beaten up.

Our team ended up winning two minutes into overtime 1-0, which was SO cool. Our ride on the metro home was impressively smooth, easy, and efficient. I fell in love with another part of Brazil on that fantastic subway. That's how dorky/nerdy my affection for this country is.

me to Brazil

Sam and I woke up super late on Sunday, relaxed and content. Sally met up with us to walk to a cool museum called the Museum of Image and Sound. It was about thirty minutes away, and we walked through a beautiful neighborhood on a beautiful day. It was lovely.

me frolicking down the street

The museum ended up having limited opportunities for non-Portuguese speakers, but Sam and I did well enough with our rudimentary Spanish to understand some of the exhibits' descriptions. We wandered into a random outdoor market next door to admire some stunning craftsmanship, including turquoise jewelry, azul vases, and wildly revolting seats made of actual fur and hooves (eep). We then decided to walk about a half hour more to a really sick street art location, but by this point I thought I was dying of hunger, so my hangry walk was more like--

A heaping cone of gelato cheered me right up, though. 

We strolled through this cemetery with graves dating back to birth-dates of 1885, which fascinated me. Cemeteries really intrigue me, and something about examining the names and years on graves saddens me (because death) and gives hope to me (because there is power and compassion in sparing a few moments to recognize another's life, even if he or she has died long ago). 

From the cemetery, in which we had to deftly avoid embracing couples, we arrived at Beco do Batman, an incredible alleyway full of graffiti.

black and white

color!!!

my favorite piece of artwork in the alley

Sally, Sam, and I really enjoyed gazing at the gorgeous works and taking tons of pictures.

(It's getting late, and I'm getting excited, so I'm gonna speed this up)

From the alley, Sally and I took a taxi to Angelica's Grill, an all-you-can-eat churrascaria, which is like a barbecue place. Have you ever seen Bridesmaids?

 

This scene takes place at a churrascaria. LUCKILY, our night did not end in--

But we did stuff ourselves with tons of incredible meats and salads and cheese. Our excitement every time that a new meat arrived at our table--

literally

Cracked up our servers, and they legit began to mock us every time they passed our table. They'd say "oh my god!!!" and "yay!!!!" in super exaggerated American accents in a really high, girly voice.

It was too funny to be angry; plus, we were, like, really really excited.

Sally returned to my house and we booked the sickest spring break EVER. Five days at one of the best beach locations in the world/one of the Wonders of the World, then two and a half days at one of the Natural Wonders of the World, all for under $500. I mean like yeah, sounds good to me.

It legit took two hours to book this sh*t though, because the airline website was a fiasco.

However, after numerous attempts of trying to convince a computer system that I am not in fact Brazilian and that yes I do have a valid zipcode and a few moments of--

I  booked tickets for myself, Sally, and Jenn. WAHOO.

This morning was Monday morning, which, even in South America, is

BUT the prospect of Neighborhood Day definitely brightened the idea of Monday. I ended up being sorted into a group with tons of my favorite people and we visited the neighborhood of Bom Retiro, a site in Sao Paulo known for its immigration, culture, and its identity as a cracolandia--or literally, a "land of crack."

Yes, crack. Like, crack cocaine.

We were treated to the delightful views of people literally smoking crack cocaine in broad daylight, only feet away from armed police officers. I have never before in my life been in a place or situation like that. It was shocking and a little scary and really uncomfortable. But, it's important to see these things, to get a glimpse of what daily life can look like for some people, to understand the disastrous problems and addictions rotting out society. Perhaps the most alarming sight was the high school literally around the corner from the drug-trafficking site. It actually sickened me to hear from our guide that "the first two times" trying crack cocaine in school bathrooms are free--they hook young children and ruin their lives. Well, assist in ruining their lives--I'm not going to disregard personal agency in this case. But still. Breathtaking in a bad way.

Towards evening, as we prepared to head back home, a few group members decided they wanted to speak to some policemen in cracolandia about the cops' inactivity and hands-off approach. Our guide heavily warned against it, saying she thought it was an extremely terrible idea for us to return to the area.

My thought process: hmmm... a native warning us against chatting with potentially corrupt policemen in an area riddled with drug addicts at dark in a country in which I do not speak the language nor understand cultural norms nor have internet.

Their thought process: it'll be fine!!!!

So, as the majority of the group made plans to venture back into crack land, I pulled a--

and took a subway back home. They returned safely but I remain happy with my safe, boring, vanilla decision.

Tonight at dinner, I downed a few cups of coffee, anticipating a long night of reading class assignments and writing this blog. I sat in bed, multi-tasking (aka watching Fuller House and Eat, Pray, Love, surfing Buzzfeed, chatting with Sam, and writing a thing or two down in my notebook), and, for the first time on this program, I felt so... college. Hyped on coffee after 9 PM, discussing current events and our days with a roommate, finishing classwork, unwinding to some Netflix... It felt familiar, It felt comfortable. It felt like home. And, after months of feeling alien and lonely and overwhelmed and upset, "home" (even if it's about twenty degrees warmer with slightly more chance of contracting a deadly mosquito-born disease) feels nice. It feels good.

I am honestly happier than I've been in the past two months--the weather, the excitement of the city, my deepening friendships, my ability to contact my family, my anticipation for the dozens of fun activities coming up.... They are all invigorating and refreshing and rejuvenating me. I feel like a new and improved Aubs. God, I am so happy.

Thankful beyond words,
Aubrey

I Don't Know What to Say.

Although I had about six free hours yesterday to write a blog, I had neither the energy nor distance from my experiences to accurately record my feelings and encounters.

One phenomenon I'm attempting to stave off is the idea that my surroundings are my "new normal." I fell into this trap after a few months in Israel, mostly as a survival mechanism. It's the act of pretending that one's new environment is commonplace and is something that has to be adjusted to as quickly as possible. Last summer, I found myself getting used to the streets of Jerusalem, the sights of decked-out Hasidic Jews, and the Hebrew signs; I shrugged as if I belonged there, like it was my every-day. I excuse myself a little bit, because three months is a long-time, and attempting to live in a constant state of wonder is exhausting.

However, I plan on being exhausted by the end of this trip. And getting accustomed to India doesn't seem quite possible. Whether it's passing a cow pulling a gigantic cart of pomegranates, or the constant fear of crashing because of the haphazard attention to basic street etiquetted every day in India seems to leave me breathless. Literally--the exhaust in the air makes my lungs hurt.

Yesterday, we had a neighborhood visit; we separated into groups of six and, along with a translator, immersed ourselves in a particular neighborhood. My group visited Kubeshagar, a Hindu Pakistani refugee neighborhood about forty minutes from the city center. 

Okay, so by the time we arrived in the neighborhood, I was so overwhelmed I could not even breathe. Between the crazy rickshaw ride, the overpowering stenches of cows and mud and exhaust, and the act of being thrust into a brand-new neighborhood in a brand-new country, I was like--

I literally felt like I couldn't breathe or move or function. But somehow, I got my legs to walk, and I followed our leader blindly down the road. 

Apparently, not many people looking like my group (aka white) come to this neighborhood very often, so we actually had numerous individuals questioning our guide as to why we were even there.

them @ us

While the visit only exacerbated the culture shock I'd been feeling, there were a few bright moments. One was meeting Miraben, a stunningly creative and successful mother of four and grandmother of six who crafted beautiful quilts and cared for her home. Her younger sister, Dahiben, was also an absolute delight and inspiration. I especially connected with her, and we shared hugs and effusive gratitude--even though we spoke completely different languages. It's sometimes shocking to me the amount of emotion and love that can be communicated without words. 

We visited an elementary school, and I've never felt more like a celebrity in my life. The children screamed and crowded around us, begging for autographs on their notebooks and hands. At first, it was cute and flattering, but I soon began to feel immensely uncomfortable. 

The reasons I awed them so deeply were simply that I am white and that I am American. What had I actually done, I wondered, to deserve such idolization and adoration? I felt unworthy of their attention, but I didn't know how to respond to their desperate requests for my signature. To ignore them would be to reinforce the falsity of my superiority; to give in would be to legitimize their vaulting of me. It seemed impossible. It still seems impossible.

I FINALLY had a decent enough signal to talk with my mother on the phone today, and I emphasized how overwhelmed I felt. She asked why I was more overwhelmed here than in any other place I'd been. After some thinking, I tried to explain why. This place--whether it is the city or the country, I do not know--is saturated beyond capacity with colors, smells, people, activity, and sound. I am constantly berated by my surroundings, and I feel as if I, too, am filled to the brim. I'm unable to take in any more. I need to release it, and let go of the sensations that have taken over me

I was planning on writing much more tonight, but I'm once again being overcome by the emotions of sadness, anger, desperation, helplessness, empathy... So many feelings. I didn't even know I had the ability to feel so much at once. I am constantly being challenged by my surroundings, by the people I am with, by the expectations of my classes and my assignments and myself. I am constantly questioning my place in this society, my effect on my environment, my very own personhood--who am I in India, who am I in the United States, and how are those two beings different? 

I am exhausted. I am overwhelmed. But I promise myself that I will try to overcome, and I challenge myself to live every day open to the new and to the people I will meet. 

I hope to write more tomorrow about my past two days--but for now, I need to sit in the dark and simply be with myself.

Signing off,

Aubrey

Getting to Know NYC

Honestly, these past two and a half days have felt like two years. I have learned a ridiculous amount about the city, I have made astonishingly close friends, and I've gotten even more excited for my upcoming travels!

So Thursday was Neighborhood Visit Day--a day in which we were split up into small groups of 5-6 in order to extensively explore one of the New York boroughs. I was assigned to the Staten Island group and prepared to make the hour and a half long trip to the borough from Queens by embracing the New England stereotype and chugging a large cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee. You know that scene in Legally Blonde in which Elle sheds her Californian persona and basically becomes a ~real~ Harvard student?

~studious~ and ~New England~

That's exactly how I felt clutching my Dunkin, wondering where the nearest Starbucks was. But I digress.

In order to get to Staten Island, you have to ride a ferry from Manhattan.

the view of Manhattan!

And guess what I passed--THE STATUE OF LIBERTY.

wow!!!

ME AND LADY LIBERTY

Now, I am basically the biggest American History nerd you will ever meet. I cry at the Pledge of Allegiance and the Gettysburg Address. So, seeing a beautiful statue meant to welcome the tired and weary and poor that longed to fulfill their American Dream had me like--

Upon arrival on Staten Island, we took a taxi to Port Richmond, a community with a large Hispanic immigrant population. To my absolute shock--we were able to find some real, authentic, INCREDIBLE Mexican food. LOOK AT THIS!!!

WOAH. I was like--

Super impressive.

But, if you can imagine, the food was only the beginning of what was to be a stellar, eye-opening, incredible day. 

Have you ever crossed paths with an individual for only a few months, or hours, or minutes, that changes your life? Someone whose face you can never forget and whose story imprints itself on your heart? 

I met so many of those men and women on Thursday. I met a woman who moved to the United States from Ecuador twenty-two years ago with her two children and worked as a single mother to support them. I met a man who has lived in Port Richmond for over thirty years and who works with at-risk youth of clashing ethnicities in order to promote peace and cooperation in his neighborhood. I met a librarian who has won multiple grants to revitalize and revamp her public library to serve more children and community members. And I realized in that moment, as a did in Israel, that my heart will be scattered around the world in a matter of a few short months. I leave little shards of it with every man and woman and place (and dog!) that touches my soul. My own family in California, and the Morris family in Israel hold the biggest pieces, and Boston, Jordan, Turkey, Montana, Nevada, and now New York have pieces as well. India, Brazil, and South Africa will soon hold some as well. And I will never truly be home again, with my heart scattered around the world--but oh, what a privilege and blessing it is to be broken.

We stayed in Port Richmond until about 6 or so then made our way back to Queens. 

The next day, we presented about the neighborhood we'd visited and listened to descriptions of the other four boroughs. After that, we spent the entire day learning about New York history. I was absolutely enthralled. 

After a long day of classes, a bunch of us gals got ready to go out on the own. We explored Manhattan and had a grand time. Honestly, one of the coolest experiences of my life occurred on the subway--a man walked onto the train and started singing some awesome oldies, and everyone else started to sing along!! Literally an impromptu communal karaoke on the Manhattan subway. I felt like I was in High School Musical.

It was extremely fun to get to know so many of my fellow programmers outside of an academic context and to learn that they're legit fantastic and fun and free-spirited people. I already know there's nobody I'd rather travel the world with. 

some of the coolest people you'll ever meet

It's been an amazing few days, even if they feel a little bit like decades instead of hours. Tonight, I will be relaxing in the hostel with a bunch of the girls, catching up on readings, and writing in my planner (I LOVE PLANNING!). Hopefully, I'll get a full eight hours of sleep before a day of sight-seeing tomorrow. 

But let's be real. There's no way I'm getting eight hours.

Sweet dreams, dear friends.

Much love,

Aubs